Reflections of the Past
by Traycer
Summary: Jack is trapped in a wilderness of mirrors
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Written for the word, "Frustration", which is the Jackfic Word of the Month for May 2005. Better late than never, I guess. :) This story is completely written, with a total of 6 chapters and I'll be posting the rest of the chapters over the next few days.

Special thanks go out to Diane for her beta talents. I depend on her, I tell ya!

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Reflections of the Past  
Chapter 1 

The temple was huge. The walls seemed to go on forever and Daniel Jackson was having a field day analyzing the symbols that adorned the multitude of panels. The panels were layered in a pattern along one side of the room, while the other walls were adorned with pictures and stone. Jack O'Neill watched his friend as he peered closely at a symbol, move back to take a picture, then move back in for another look. The guy was in his glory, Jack knew, and he hated to take him away from all this, but they had a deadline to meet and it was time to head back home.

"Come on Daniel," he said, " Hammond's expecting us. When the General speaks, we listen."

"Just a minute," Daniel responded absently. Jack seriously doubted that Daniel had heard a word he'd said, but he had learned over the years that Daniel would come around if the right words were used to light a fire under his ass.

"Now, Daniel!" he commanded. Daniel didn't bother responding this time, he just stepped back and took another picture. "Daniel," Jack said a little louder. "Time to move out."

"Okay," Daniel said, as he wrote something in his notebook, then peered closely at the panel he was studying. Jack grabbed Daniel's arm, intending to physically drag the archeologist out of there, only to stop when he heard a noise coming from down the corridor that led from the room.

"What was that?" he asked, as he peered down the hallway with his gun at the ready. Carter and Teal'c were already outside, ready to head home, leaving Jack to try to convince Daniel to leave this treasure chest of goodies, so they were not the culprits. Jack couldn't see anything past the lighted hallway, but experience had taught him that this didn't mean a thing. The noise could be brought on by any number of creatures. And the weird part of this situation was that the natives were deathly afraid of the darkness in this place, so any noise coming from the dark hallways seemed to be out of place.

Another noise came from the same direction the first one had, echoing throughout the building and Jack's curiosity got the best of him. The temple was supposed to be deserted; at least that's what the natives had told him. No one wanted to be in a temple that was rumored to be cursed. According to local legend, the walls of the temple would close in if they ventured past the main room and they would be lost forever. Daniel hadn't even blinked at that bit of mystery. Apparently, this was old news to him, having run across similar beliefs in his vast travels. He had promised the locals, most vehemently, that he would stay only within the main room, seeing as this room had more than enough fodder for his perusal.

Jack knew better than to flaunt the superstitious beliefs of the natives. He had learned the hard way that they were sometimes correct in believing this stuff. But there was that noise again. Something was down that hallway. He gripped his weapon tighter, squinting his eyes in an effort to get a glimpse of whatever it was making the racket.

"I'm going to check it out," he told Daniel, who nodded his head, not taking his eyes off of the panel in the wall. "Daniel," Jack said insistently, although it was to no avail. "Daniel," he shouted in frustration. Daniel finally looked over at him, and Jack pointed toward the direction where the noise came from. "I'm going to check it out," he said, to let him know of his intentions. "I'll be right back."

Daniel nodded again, then looked down at the notebook in his hand, before going back to studying the panel. Jack left him at it, walking across the room toward the hallway. "Wait. Jack," Daniel called out, causing Jack to stop and look back at his friend. "Don't leave the main room," he warned.

Jack nodded, then said, "I won't." He tread softly as he headed for the hallway, quietly trying to find out what was down there.

The main room was lit up by scattered fires that burned continuously in little pits built into the floor. The locals made sure the fires never burned out, as it was believed that complete darkness would swallow their world if they did. But the hallways were left alone, which made seeing anything past the glow of the fires impossible.

"Stay within the light."

Jack remembered the words spoken by one of the elders as they had walked into the temple, but someone was down there; someone, or something. He pulled out his flashlight, turned it on and aimed it down the hallway, hoping to catch sight of whatever it was making all that noise. He gripped his gun tighter, ready and willing to defend himself with every single round he had in the clip.

Another noise, much louder this time, and Jack took another step toward the hallway. That one sounded human, almost like laughter, and his curiosity was definitely peaked. "Anyone down there?" he called out.

Silence. Something was not right, but Jack didn't think it was a good idea to wander down that hallway. He took one more step forward, curiosity demanding to be resolved, then decided that maybe he didn't want to know after all. It was too late though, as the ground beneath his feet began to rumble and shake, prompting Jack to look around wildly. What was going on? He was sure that he was still in the main room. Horror rushed through him as he noticed that the toe of his boot was technically in the darkness of the hallway, and he swore he would never again berate Daniel for touching something he shouldn't have. He pulled his foot back into the light, but the damage was done. The floor shifted and Jack started to slide forward, landing on his rear when the floor slanted downward.

"Jack!" Daniel called out, but Jack could only focus on trying to stay put. He hurriedly turned around so that he was on his stomach and reached out to grab onto something to keep from sliding into the darkness. Daniel had come to the rescue, but not quick enough and Jack cursed when his hand slid out from Daniel's grasp.

"Daniel!" he yelled, as he slid down the floor toward complete darkness. Movement stopped abruptly when he landed roughly, pain shooting up his legs from the fall and he couldn't keep his balance, no matter how hard he tried to stay on his feet. He sat there in stunned silence, as the ceiling closed back up on him, shutting out the light from the fires as it did so.

"Daniel?" he yelled again, wondering where he was and how he was going to get out of this predicament. He had lost his flashlight during the fall, and he fell to his knees hoping to find it close by. The place he had landed was in complete darkness though, and he resorted to feeling around on the ground, relying on touch alone, to try to find it. He gave up after a few minutes and sat on the floor, clutching his gun tightly, while listening hard for any sounds to give him an indication of what was going on.

But all he heard was an eerie silence. He tried to relax in an effort to calm his fears and to get his bearings, but because sight was definitely out of the question, he tried to concentrate on using his other senses to help determine what the hell was going on. The room he was in smelled old and musty, much like the cave near his grandfather's house where he used to play when he was a kid. His ears picked up on the silence, listening for anything to help him find a way out. But the silence was deafening, marred only by the steady pounding of his heart. It took him a few seconds to realize that the pounding was not coming from inside, and he sat up straighter, listening with all his might. He tried to pinpoint the sound, at least determine where it was coming from, but the noise seemed to be coming at him from all sides.

"Daniel!" he said into his radio. He didn't get a response, but he kept trying anyway, hoping someone would hear him. He finally gave up after a few minutes to sit quietly as he wondered what exactly had just happened to him. He must be in a basement or something similar to one, because he had slid down the slanting floor. Which meant Daniel should technically be right above him. "Daniel?" he shouted again, aggravation taking over. "Get me outta here!"

Silence. Either Daniel couldn't hear him, or he had left to go get Teal'c and Carter. Somehow Jack didn't think Daniel would leave him. Daniel could be so stubborn when it came to things like that. He'd keep on trying, and Jack figured he'd better do what he could to help Daniel get through the barriers.

With that thought running through his mind, he stood up and stretched his arms upward, hoping to push up on the ceiling, or at least make a lot of noise by pounding on it with his gun. He wasn't able to touch it, so he rammed his gun upwards, a triumphant smile making an appearance when it clanged on something solid. He continued to bang on the ceiling, while coughing and choking on the dirt and dust that rained down on him. "Daniel! What's taking you so long?"

Still more silence, and Jack was seriously getting worried. He banged on the ceiling one more time, then went on alert when he heard a noise coming from a different direction. He gripped his gun, aiming it toward the direction where the sound came from, straining his eyes as he desperately tried to see past the darkness. "Hello?" he called out. "Anybody there?"

Silence and darkness reigned once more and Jack was starting to get pissed. He kept a tight grip on his gun as he called out, "Daniel! Teal'c? Where are you guys?"

"Jack?" That was Daniel! Jack was sure of it. The voice came from the same direction where he had heard the noise a few minutes ago, so Jack took a few tentative steps in that direction, walking carefully to avoid any obstacles. He reached around with his arms until he touched the cool, rough sides of a wall and he sidled over to it in order to have something solid to follow. He moved cautiously, never taking his hands off of the wall, ever aware of stepping on something, or worse, off of something. He had only taken a few steps when a light appeared at the end of the hall he had found himself in, causing him to stop and bring his gun up again.

"Hello? Daniel? Is that you?" All he got for his efforts was the sound of a child's laughter, sounding out of place in the dark, dampness of his surroundings. He stood there, taking in the sights and the sounds, wondering what he should do. He looked up at the ceiling, but the area where he was standing was still bathed in darkness. He couldn't tell if there was a door or a way out, and he suddenly remembered his flashlight. The light from down the hall barely reached the area where he was standing, but he turned his attention to the floor and finally saw his flashlight lying against the wall a few feet from where he stood. He would have eventually stepped on it if he had gone a little further. He grabbed the flashlight and was pleased to see that it still worked when he turned it on.

The flashlight revealed nothing extraordinary about the ceiling. No doors, crevices or cracks could be found and Jack gave a frustrated sigh. He had fallen from that ceiling, there had to be some indication of a trapdoor somewhere. There had to be.

He finally gave up when he heard what sounded like someone talking down toward the end of the hallway. This decided it for Jack. There were people down there, surely they would know the way out. He turned off the flashlight and put it away, while at the same time hitching his gun up so that he would be able to start shooting the moment trouble came along. The hallway wasn't that long, but with Jack moving cautiously, it still took him awhile to get to the end. Silence had taken over sometime during the trip down the hall, causing him to tread softly. His instincts had kicked into high gear, and Jack was focused totally on his surroundings. Nothing slipped his attention, not even the dust and dirt that trickled down from the ceiling as he passed, telling him that it had been awhile since anyone had been down this hallway.

He stopped when he got to the end of the hall. The hallway made an abrupt turn to the right, but Jack knew better than to just walk blindly around the bend. He put his back up to the wall on his right, waited a moment, then turned slightly until he was able to peek around the edge of the wall. He was amazed by what he saw. The hallway led into a room that was walled with mirrors. There were mirrors everywhere, along with what seemed like a hundred Jack O'Neills peeking around a corner. What the hell?

He straightened up and found himself staring at the wall on the other side of the hallway in wonder. Now he was in a freaking carnival fun house! A regular House of Mirrors. He shook his head, then turned back to look into the room, but all he saw were all the Jack O'Neills lurking about inside the mirrors. No bad guys or monsters, which told him it was fairly safe to enter.

He took another look down the hallway he had just come down, debating on the wisdom of leaving that area. But he heard what sounded like somebody grumbling from the direction of the mirrors. The grumbling sounded familiar to Jack, and he found himself smiling as he remembered his grandmother grumbling about having to clean the fish he and his grandfather had caught and brought home when he was younger. She hated that job, but did it anyway, grumbling and complaining the whole time. The sounds coming from the room of mirrors sounded like his grandmother when she was up to her elbows in fish guts.

"I should make the pair of you do your own cleaning," the voice said, causing Jack's smile to vanish. Holy crap! The woman even sounded like his grandmother, Irish accent and all. "You want to eat, you do the nasty work." Jack stood there, trembling in fright. It couldn't be his grandmother. She'd been dead for almost 30 years now.

Get a grip, O'Neill, he chastised himself, as he tried to bring himself back into reality. You are on another planet here. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then turned abruptly to enter the room, aiming his gun toward the mirrors. He was alone, save for the hundreds of other O'Neills aiming their guns at each other – or toward him, as the case may be, and he was glad that they were only reflections.

"Hello?" he called out. He had heard the voices after all. There were people around there somewhere and Jack was determined to find them and get the hell out of that place. "Anyone here?" He stared into the mirrors, watching as the other Jack O'Neills looked back at him with a mixture of exasperation and confusion, along with just a touch of fear on their faces. The faces were reflecting his own feelings, and it was a bit unsettling to see the real Jack O'Neill looking back at him. Jack usually hid his feelings fairly well, yet here he was showing his fear to anybody who cared to look. Not good, especially since he had the distinct feeling he was not alone - the voices and the fact that his instincts were screaming at him that he was being watched, told him that much.

Getting out was the most important issue, so Jack shook off the feeling of being watched as he strained to hear more voices, but silence had taken over once again. He walked further into the room, looking for anything that would give him an indication that people actually were around. Finding nothing but mirrors, he decided to go back to where his journey started and wait for the rescue party.

A room full of mirrors could be tricky, he realized, when he couldn't even find the hallway he had just come from. It was just there, not five minutes ago, and panic set in as he realized that the entrance had disappeared. "How is that possible?" he asked out loud, as his eyes scanned across the mirrors in the room. "Where's the damn door?"

"Watch your language, young man!" The voice had come from behind him, and Jack swung around with his gun at the ready.

"Mom?" he said, disbelief warring with his panic. No one was there, but the woman's voice sounded so much like his mother, that Jack half expected her to be standing there.

He tried to see past his reflections in the mirror, hoping to find someone, anyone, to prove he wasn't losing his mind, but no one appeared. The mirrors blurred for a moment and Jack suddenly noticed that there was an opening in the mirrors. This was probably the way out, he realized. He didn't move though, as fear had him rooted to the spot. He didn't really believe in ghosts, but damn it - first his grandmother, then his mother? Something was definitely not right here, and Jack was worried about what he would find if he went through that door.

It's the only way out. Jack knew this, but his instincts were buzzing. He took a deep breath to strengthen his resolve, then cautiously moved toward the opening. The gun in his hands was a familiar friend, and he pulled it up, with his finger ready to pull the trigger at a moment's notice. The other Jack O'Neills in the mirrors mimicked him, each and every one of them standing alert and tense, waiting for Jack to make his move.

He did. He moved through the opening in the mirrors, moving slowly only to stop dead in his tracks when he entered the next room. Horror spread across his features as he stared at the mirrors that lined the walls of this room, much like the room he had just left. Only this time, the images reflected back at him were not just of him, but also of other people. People that Jack knew, or had once known, and he stood there staring at them, his eyes widening as he watched his father smile at him from the man's favorite chair.

"It's about time you showed up, Jack," his old man said. Jack just stared at the mirror, while a distorted image of Jack's own reflection standing next to his father stared back at him. The image was of a younger version of Jack, his hair showing no signs of the gray that was sprinkled liberally through the hair at Jack's temples. Jack stared at the scene in the mirror, while bringing his hand up to run his fingers through the gray hair, watching as his reflection flaunt the laws of nature by grinning wryly at Jack before going over to sit down in a chair next to his father.

"What is this?" Jack asked. "Is this a movie? Or maybe a flashback. Yeah, maybe it's a flashback. I probably got a concussion or something when the floor dumped me into this carnival ride, right? It's the only explanation…" Jack knew he was rambling, but he hadn't run into anything this strange since that time he woke up in Hathor's cryogenic chamber, confused and believing he had been revived in the future. No, he thought, as he shook his head. This was definitely stranger than that.

"What are you going on about now, Jack?" This came from a mirror on his left, and Jack turned to find his father standing over a very young child, while baiting a hook. The child looked back at Jack and smiled, dimples showing up in his cheeks. Oh my God, Jack thought, as he realized who the child was. Jack had a picture of this scene in a photo album somewhere up in his attic. He remembered clearly the day the picture was taken. He and his father were going fishing and Jack had just come back from looking at the biggest fish he had ever seen in his young life. The fish had been caught by a neighbor and Jack couldn't wait to tell his father about it. His uncle had taken that picture, although Jack couldn't remember the last time he had laid eyes on it. Why was this scene being played out in the mirror?

It wasn't the only scene being played out. Dozens of Jack O'Neills from various times in his life stared back at him, all in different scenarios and all grinning at him. They stood next to parents, grandparents, uncles and cousins, each one reflecting a happy memory from Jack's past.

"He's just a child, Johnny," Jack's grandmother said from behind him. He swiveled on the spot and saw her sitting in a rocking chair with a five-year-old Jack sitting on her lap. "You can't expect him to understand what's going on."

"I'm not a child now," Jack felt it was his obligation to remind her. "Tell me what the hell's going on here."

"Jonathan O'Neill!" his mother admonished from a mirror a few panels down from his grandmother. "Where did you learn to talk like that? I ought to wash your mouth out with soap." The eight-year-old Jack standing next to her looked up at her with a guilty look, just before his mother reached down and pulled him into a tight hug, holding him close to her heart. "I'm just glad you are okay. You could have been killed by that maniac."

Jack grinned at the memory that scene dragged up. He had almost been hit by a car that came flying out of nowhere, scaring his mother half to death. He had yelled out a curse word to the driver, too shaken to realize that his mother had ran to his side and was standing right next to him. But it was worth it to have her arms around him. Jack had always loved it when his mother held him like that.

Similar scenes played out in the mirrors that surrounded Jack, while memories raced through his mind as he went from one panel to the next, and on and on until he was getting dizzy from turning around in circles. These were all happy memories and Jack's fear had lifted by the time he had stopped his wanderings, as he felt safe here among his loved ones. He wondered at the wisdom of letting his guard down, even as he smiled at a teenage Jack and his cousin sneaking into his aunt's house to steal a fresh baked pie that was conveniently left out on the kitchen table.

All this was great, but Jack knew that all good things came to pass. Even though he was enjoying the scenes being played out, he was going to have to leave eventually. The problem now was that, just as in the last room, he couldn't find a door or an opening in the wall.

"One of you guys wanna tell me which way is out?" He could only hope that they would tell him the secrets of this place. But nobody seemed to be listening to him. They all continued to play out the scenes of his life, ignoring the real Jack O'Neill. "There's a way in, there has to be a way out."

He continued to scan the mirrors as he spoke to himself, trying to see if there was an opening. It was hard to do, as the mirrors still reflected images of him and of the others. It was just that everything that didn't belong to the scene in a mirror was smaller and distant. But it still made finding an opening extremely difficult. Jack finally resorted to going up to a mirror and pushing on it, feeling the cool, smooth glass against his fingertips as he tried to find a latch or anything that would indicate it would open. He finally found the opening when he pushed on the image of his father in the armchair. Both his father and the younger Jack smiled approvingly at him as the panel moved to allow him to exit.

"It's been great!" Jack said to the images in all the mirrors in the room. "Really. Absolutely peachy. But time's a wasting." All the members of his family were staring at him with a smile, although the Jacks seemed to be worried about something. Even the youngest one looked like he was going to cry, and Jack had to wonder why. He didn't dwell on it for too long though. He got a firm grip on his gun, then with a wave to the images, walked through the opening.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter here. It was a little hard to separate this story into chapters.

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He found himself in a dim hallway, which turned out to be fairly short. Jack couldn't help the groan that came from deep within him when he entered the next room. He was in another room full of mirrors. Frustration moved back in to replace the happiness he had felt while visiting with his loved ones. He found himself looking into the various mirrors, glaring at the other Jack O'Neills, who all seemed to be smirking at him. Like the room before, all the Jacks in this room represented various ages, but this time they were surrounded by all the friends Jack had ever known, and even the sight of Daniel, Carter and Teal'c didn't ease the anger that was building in his soul. He wanted out of this fun house. 

"What's going on here?" No one answered, which didn't surprise Jack in the least. He wasn't really sure if anything was real anyway. But the images reflecting back at him still watched him; taunting him with the happiness they seemed to be feeling. Their smiles were a direct contrast of the face of the real Jack O'Neill, the reflection that stared back at him amongst all the other Jacks. That one had a look of confusion mixed with fear, which Jack refused to acknowledge. "Carter! What the hell is going on here?"

If he thought that taking on the role of a commander was going to push Carter into responding dutifully, he was sadly mistaken. She just stared back at him, standing slightly behind the Colonel O'Neill in the mirror, with Daniel and Teal'c standing on the other side of him. They were dressed as if they were on a mission, but their casual stance had Jack thinking that maybe they weren't in any danger.

"Come on Daniel. Help me out here. What's going on?" Daniel just shrugged his shoulders at something Teal'c had said. "Fine then," Jack said grumpily. "I don't need you anyway." Daniel grinned at the image of Carter, which Jack studiously ignored. He turned to the panel of glass that was next to the one SG-1 was in, and tried to garner the help he needed in figuring out what was going on by asking, "What about you, Tony? You going to clue me in?"

The teenage boy that was standing next to a teenage Jack laughed, his smile bringing a pang to Jack's heart. Tony had died in a car crash the night before his seventeenth birthday.

"It's just Old Man Marino selling vegetables from his truck, Jack. You wanna get something?"

Jack couldn't help smiling sadly at that thought. He and his friends used to give that old man so much grief, except when he and his best friend, Tony, would go back without the others to help out with whatever odd chores they could find. Mr. Marino always paid them with fruits or vegetables and Jack still remembered the words Mr. Marino said to them that first time they had gone back. "One day you will find yourselves in a situation where there is no turning back. I hope that there will be someone who will come back to save you when that time comes." Jack hadn't understood at the time what the old man was talking about, but three years later when Tony died, Mr. Marino came to Jack, giving him a shoulder to cry on and a mantra to hang onto during the worst times of his life since then. He always had someone to hang on to, even if it was only in his mind.

"Nah," Jack told his old friend. "I'm trying to find a way out of here. You know, I'll settle for a tiny clue. Just one." Tony didn't respond, his attention was on the teenage Jack who nodded his head and grinned cheekily. "Okay, you want begging? I'm begging here. No make that commanding. Carter, I am ordering you to tell me what's going on. Home definitely sounds like a great plan right about now and I'm ready to leave."

"I'll be glad to get home, too, sir," Carter responded. She was staring off into the distance, while her teammates in the mirror were all looking at her. "I have a date with Cassie to go see some band…" She looked out at Jack, confused for a moment, possibly trying to remember the name of the band. Jack knew the name of the band, as well as what planet they were on, as this very same scene played out in real life only a couple of months ago. Why was he seeing it played out in the mirror? In fact, why were all of his memories reflected in the mirrors?

"Linkin Park," he supplied, hoping she would pay more attention to him if he helped her out.

No such luck. She shrugged her shoulders, then said, "Some band. I'll find out when I pick her up."

"Yeah, you do that," Jack grumbled darkly. He was getting nowhere fast, and he decided to try to figure it out on his own. He could do that. He wasn't as smart as Daniel and Carter, but he did have a pretty good track record of getting out of tight spots. All he needed to do was to stop and think.

He stared out at all the mirrors that lined the walls in the room, wondering which one was the magic doorway. The mirrors were filled with old and new friends, even a few who later turned into enemies. He stopped and glared at the mirror where Frank Cromwell was sitting in Jack's front room, cheering on his team, as the two of them watched a ball game. They had been great friends before that fateful day when the man left Jack to suffer through four months of hell in an Iraqi prison. Jack had hated Frank with a passion ever since. He scowled at the image one more time, briefly wondering why Frank was even in there among the memories that represented his friends. "We were friends once," he heard Frank say, an eerie memory that crept up in the recesses of his mind.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Jack said to no one in particular.

He then moved on, hoping to find a clue that would get him out of this particular situation. After a few minutes of searching, nothing came even close. He walked up to the mirror that held an image of a younger Jack and a good friend he had met at the Air Force Academy and pushed to see if it would move, all the while dealing with a nagging dread. The panel didn't move, so Jack moved on to the next. He was successful after a few tries, but his dread was growing. He looked back at the image of Frank Cromwell, as he realized what it was he was really afraid of. Not all of his memories were good ones.

* * *

It had taken him a few minutes to get up the courage to walk through the panel, knowing that he could be facing memories that could very well destroy him, but he walked through it, also knowing that he really didn't have a choice. The next room was just as he expected – a room full of mirrors. He was lost in a freaking wilderness of mirrors and his frustrations were coming to a boiling point. 

He stared at all the images, his mind taking in all the memories and he wished with all his might that he had never heard of this planet. Anger roiled in his gut, as he watched the images play out the scenes of his life, images of people who had played an important role in teaching Jack the meaning of consequences. He glared at the panel where his Aunt Betty towered over a cringing little boy, who Jack knew was the hated nephew. His Aunt had hated Jack for as long as he could remember, for no other reason than for the fact that he was his mother's son. As far as his Aunt Betty was concerned, Jack's mother had stolen Betty's boyfriend and married him, all because she was pregnant with Jack. Jack was the reason she had to settle for the man she eventually married, so Jack had to pay.

"Old hag," Jack muttered angrily. He still remembered the bruises she had left on him when his mother wasn't around. And he still remembered the harsh words when she told him why she hated him.

"What did you say?" the woman in the mirror asked of the child standing next to her.

"It wasn't him," Jack was compelled to say. "You want to pick on somebody, I'm right here. Bring it on, you old bat."

She didn't respond, but then again neither did the boy in the mirror.

"You need to learn to respect your elders," a voice snarled out at him from another panel. Jack turned to see one of his teachers from years ago shaking a pointer at the younger version of Jack who was standing there with a belligerent look on his face.

"Give him hell," Jack advised from his vantage point. He knew from experience that the younger version of him wouldn't do it, but sometimes regrets were hard to live with. "Just tell him where to shove it."

"Words of wisdom, O'Neill?" Jack swung around at those words, already knowing who was speaking them before he even laid eyes on the person.

"Well, if it isn't "little" Timmy Landers. Didn't you end up in prison some ten, twelve years ago?" The image of Jack's old nemesis in college didn't even smirk at Jack's words. "If I remember correctly, you got caught embezzling funds from the guy you worked for."

"You think you're so smart, don't you? I know it was you who turned me in for cheating on that exam. You WILL pay for that, O'Neill."

The image of Jack just smirked at Landers, which mirrored the one Jack had on his face. Landers never did get his paybacks on that one, although Jack was branded a sneak by most of Landers' friends.

"You always were a putz, Landers," Jack said, as he watched his mirror image flip the guy off and walk away. Being thought of as a jerk by Landers' friends hadn't really been all that bad.

"I suppose you think you are going to get out of here," said another voice from Jack's past. Jack stiffened at the sound of it, then steeled his backbone and turned to find the man who had made his life miserable when he was held prisoner during that stint in El Salvador.

"Well yeah, now that you mention it..." Jack was not about to let any of his old fears show through. That guy sure packed a punch. "I'll be leaving this lovely place soon enough."

"You're here until I say you can go."

"Whatever," Jack muttered as he turned back to face the other mirrors. The man was just a memory not even worth remembering. He stared at the mirrors, trying to think of the next logical step. One of them should open up to another room of mirrors, but the question was, which one. Then again, the real question should be did he really want to go any further. So far, each place took him away from his family and led him to memories better left alone. Would the next room hold images of people that Jack avoided remembering at all costs? Or would he be back with his family?

He really didn't have a choice, he realized. He wanted out of this fun house, which meant he had to go on.

"Follow your heart, Jack." This advice came from an unlikely source, considering the anger residing within the mirrors. But his grandfather was there, telling a young Jack the way out of a situation he had gotten himself into. "The only way to truly find what you seek is to follow your heart."

"I know, Grandpa, but this is not Minnesota and I have to tell you that this place is hopeless." The other Jacks in the mirrors seemed to be nodding at this admission, but his grandfather wasn't listening.

"You won't find it here, Jack. Follow your heart."

Jack stood there for a second, then sighed heavily and nodded reluctantly. "Okay, if you say so." He turned toward the mirrors, trying to think what he did in the other rooms to get one to open, while at the same time processing his grandfather's words.

Nothing came to mind, so Jack decided to just go for it. He went up to the mirrors, pushing on them until the one with his Aunt Betty snarling at the young Jack in the mirror, opened up. "I knew there would be a time when you would come in handy," he told the image, as he grabbed his gun in anticipation of what he would find in the next room. He took a deep breath, then moved slowly through the panel.


	3. Chapter 3

Frustration comes in many forms. Whether it's from a difficult task, or a monotonous trek through a wilderness of mirrors, aggravation can take its toll on an unsuspecting soul. And even though Jack had been fairly sure that he would find another room full of mirrors, his reaction when he entered the next room still screamed of his frustrations.

The next room held mirrored images of him at various ages; all with mentors and people Jack had looked up to. Family members, teachers, friends, professors, and even off-world allies, all stood there smiling and interacting with each other, blissfully unaware of the turmoil building up in Jack's soul. He stared at the mirrors, wondering once again which one would take him out of there, then decided to hell with it. With frustration and anger guiding his movements, he raised his gun and sprayed the mirrors with bullets, ripping through the glass and the images that were staring out at him with acceptance in their expressions. The glass shattered into a billion pieces, billowing out toward the center of the room, and sending shards in every direction. Jack continued shooting as he spun around the room, desperately looking for the way out, all the while ignoring the images that seemed to silently cheer him on.

He finally stopped when he had gone full circle, breathing heavily as he glared at the wood panels lining the walls. Some of the panels still held remnants of glass, and Jack could see pieces of his memories through those remnants. But it was the opening in one wall that had attracted his attention, and he stepped over the shards of glass that littered the floor to walk over to it. He was almost there, when he looked down to see what he was walking on and saw blood on the floor.

"Stupid. Stupid," he muttered, as he realized that he had been hit by the flying shards of glass. "Damn it."

He looked down at himself, trying to determine the damage and to figure out how badly he was hurt. Now that the adrenalin had drained away, his whole body hurt. But it was his left arm that was demanding all his attention. The pain that radiated from the cut in that arm had Jack wishing he'd had the foresight to realize he had put himself in danger when he let loose with all the bullets.

"Damn," he growled again, as he grabbed the large piece of glass that was still embedded in his arm and gently pulled on it to remove it. "Aww man," he whined, the pain of pulling on the shard of glass making him grit his teeth as he finally got it out. He used his right hand to put pressure on the cut, leaving his gun to hang from the tether on his vest. Self-preservation had moved in, and keeping himself from bleeding to death was more important than hanging onto his gun.

He stood there for a few seconds, panting heavily, wishing once more that he hadn't let his frustrations take over. But he had. And now there were cuts all over him, although the cut in his arm was the worst. Blood was gushing through the fingers he had clasped to his arm, and was dripping down to the glass littered floor, creating a swirling pattern of red dotted glass as Jack whirled around at the voices that were still coming from the panels and the shards of glass that covered the floor.

The voices were just memories, he reminded himself as he tried to calm down to think. His arm was throbbing which meant that he definitely needed to take care of it, if for nothing else than to stop the bleeding, so he went over to panel that led the way out of the room, hoping to find a clear place to sit down. He took a deep breath, then walked through the opening, dread at what he would find making him extremely wary.

The room he ended up in was the same as all the others, but this time, he was in a room with images of all the people he had ever worked with. General Hammond was there, giving Jack an ultimatum – talk or he would send a bomb to Abydos. Frank Cromwell, along with their teammates were all standing around being briefed on a mission that Jack remembered all too well. Kowalski, Ferretti and the other members of that first trip to Abydos were setting up camp while Jack's counterpart was looking out toward a desert setting, searching for an inexperienced Dr. Jackson.

Despite his injury and the fact that he was bleeding all over the floor, Jack had to smile at the memory being played out in one of the mirrors. Captain Carter was running a little late for a briefing that would send her off on her first trip through the Stargate. She was such a spitfire, Jack remembered fondly.

But the throbbing in his arm seemed to be getting worse. He made his way over to a wall and sat down next to a mirror that hosted the image of General West, who was ordering the Jack in the mirror to set up a team to go through the Stargate. Jack didn't have to pay much attention to what was going on in the mirror. He already knew what was going to happen next.

Instead, he struggled to take off the pack that he wore on his back, digging through it to find his first aid kit. He shrugged out of his vest and jacket, then grabbed at the tear in his sleeve, ripping the fabric away until the sleeve was torn off. He then pulled a tourniquet out of the kit and tied it around his arm above the wound, using his teeth to pull it tight. From there he quickly went through the motions of treating the wound and bandaging it, grimacing occasionally from the pain as he worked on stopping the blood.

Once he had dealt with the wound in his arm, he inventoried the rest of the cuts on his body. Fortunately, the rest weren't as bad as the one in his arm, but he still needed to treat a few of the nastier ones. He finally took care of everything that needed attention, then sat back against the mirror, the glass cool against the bare skin of his arm, while he tried to make sense of what was going on in the hellhole he had found himself in.

Now that he was sitting calmly, he realized that he was hungry and he dug through the pockets of his coat until he found an energy bar, which he began to eat as he sat there looking for an escape. He stared at the images in the mirror, wondering if maybe there was a clue hidden in the images. The only true constants in all the images was that a reflection of his memories was a big part of the scenes played out in the panels, as well as the fact that a version of Jack O'Neill was in each and everyone of them. Other than that, there really weren't a whole lot of clues to work with.

Then again, maybe there was. Maybe there was something in the memories that could help; he just needed to pay more attention. He studied the panels in the room, as he sat there munching on his energy bar, wondering what his subconscious might be trying to tell him. It had to be something. Why else would all these memories be playing out in the mirrors?

Maybe this was all a nightmare, he thought. Or maybe it's an alien dictator playing games with him – like a rat in a maze. Then again, maybe this was all a reality, one in which Jack was losing in a big way. Frustration and aggravation had become his constant companion as he had made his way through the maze, even as he fought against the confusion and fear that was raging inside his mind. All this had made for a stupid mistake that could possibly cost him his life, if the bleeding in his arm didn't stop soon.

"You've ruined everything, Jack," Daniel said from one of the panels. Jack turned toward the voice, while still chewing on what he had in his mouth. He stopped chewing when he realized that Daniel was alone in the mirror, save for the image of a bleeding Jack, sitting on the floor and eating an energy bar. This was so unusual that Jack sat up and stared into the mirror, trying to determine if that was the way out. "How are you going to get out of this one?"

Jack had to swallow what he was chewing on before pointing to himself and asking, "You talking to me?"

Daniel answered his question by glaring at him angrily and saying, "What were you thinking?"

Jack didn't answer right away. It was such a shock to have an image actually talking directly to him, that he had a hard time thinking of anything to say. The shock wore off though, and Jack jumped at the opportunity to find his escape.

"How do I get out of here?"

"There is no way out. You are here for eternity."

That statement was too much for Jack. "We'll now, see, that's where I have a problem. Eternity is an awful long time to spend down here and I've got places to go, people to meet…" He left the rest hanging, hoping that Daniel would take the hint and give him the ammunition he needed to find a way out. But Daniel wasn't ready to cooperate, at least that was the impression Jack got. The guy just stood there with a mutinous look on his face, and Jack wondered once again what was going on. He couldn't ever remember this conversation from the past, so this couldn't be a memory, yet Daniel was in the glass… or was he?

Jack struggled to get up from his seat, intending to walk over to the image, but was stopped when Daniel said, "I really am just a reflection."

Well, so much for sneaking up on the man. "You a mind reader too?" Jack grumbled at the image of his friend. Daniel didn't respond, which was fine with Jack. He was starting to get seriously ticked off at the man anyway. "Just tell me the way out and all will be well."

No response. Jerk, Jack thought angrily. There had to be a way out. If there was a way in, it only stood to reason that there was a way out. All he had to do was find it. "I'll do this without you then," he told the image. Daniel just shook his head and Jack tried not to think about what would happen if Daniel was right.

He glanced at the others in the mirrors, desperately looking for anything that would help him. There was no way he was going to repeat his earlier mistake of trying to shoot his way out. He was just going to have to think of something else, preferably something less dangerous to himself. The people in the mirrors were continuing on with their historic little charades, and Jack found himself staring at an image of himself hiding out behind a bombed out wall, with an alien who had at one time had convinced Jack and SG-1 that his name was Tyler. There was something significant in watching a false memory play out amongst the very real ones.

He turned back to the Daniel who had been talking to him. "You're not a memory," he said thoughtfully. "In fact, you're not Daniel are you?" The image of his friend tilted his head slightly as he stared back at Jack. He hadn't come right out and acknowledged the accusation, but Jack knew he was right. Daniel would have been in his glory trying to figure out the puzzle of the mirrored rooms, but this guy wasn't the least bit interested in helping Jack. No, the man in the mirror was not Daniel Jackson and Jack tried to tamp down on his excitement, as he realized that he just might have found the clue he was looking for. "Who are you?"

"This maze has been here for centuries. It was built for entertainment, but never have I experienced a man with such a diverse history as you. I had hoped that with your arrival, others would follow." He glared at Jack, then pointed at the mirrors that lined one wall. "But you destroyed that section of the maze, which will have to be rebuilt before the next person steps into the darkness."

"Why?" Jack couldn't even fathom why anyone would want to create a maze with no way out. "Why would you want to watch the memories of other people? Oh. Oh right. I get it. You're stuck down here with no entertainment, so you feed off of those unfortunate enough to fall into your trap. Well, you know what buddy? I've been there and done that, and I definitely don't want to be a part of this any longer. So what say we just drop this whole charade and let me out before I tell the others about your little secret?"

"I have no secrets," the image of Daniel said. "There are no others – unless you mean those that came before you. You will find them soon enough. I left them were they died."

Jack didn't like the sound of that, but he forged on anyway. "Just who are you anyway?" The image didn't respond, but Jack was far past caring. "I mean, besides the fact that you're an idiot." No reaction whatsoever, which had Jack pushing a little harder. "You hide out in this… this… maze, waiting for someone to fall into your little game, and for what? So you can get your jollies off of their memories? What kind of life is that? Pretty pathetic if you ask me."

"I live here. I cannot leave, nor would I want to."

The frustration that had been plaguing Jack from the moment he had fallen through the floor of the temple was building up to rage, as he stared at the alien who had taken on the persona of Daniel. Talking to this guy was like talking to a brick wall. "Look," he said, trying hard to stay calm. "Just tell me how to leave and you can go back to living with all those memories. I'm sure I left you with a lot to ponder over."

"Memories are mirrors of our souls. They show us who we are and help us to understand what we've become. Your memories can help you, or they can destroy you. It is up to you to decide how you want this to end."

"I want this to end now. I want out."

"You can never leave here. There is no way out."

"There's a way out," Jack said, determination moving in. "I just gotta find it."

"The others thought the same way – except for the children, of course." Daniel shook his head, then stared off into space at a spot behind Jack. "The children were not the best subjects to study." He then looked back at Jack. "I am glad that the elders banned the children from entering the temple."

"The children didn't have enough memories," Jack said sadly. He had been dealing with a crap load of fears himself, as he had made his way through the maze, and he was an adult. He could just imagine what a little kid went through.

"That is correct."

Jack was getting nowhere with this guy, but he was determined to keep trying. He finished off his energy bar, dropping the wrapper onto the floor as he struggled to get up. His arm was still throbbing, and Jack saw that it was still bleeding. He put pressure on the makeshift bandage, as he looked toward the mirror where his tormentor was standing, still staring out at him through Daniel's image. "Just how many people have you killed?" Jack found himself asking.

"Many people have come into the maze," the image said, as Jack took a few steps closer. That panel had to be the one that would open up, Jack realized. He was sure of it. He kept his eyes on the image, while slowly walking toward it, and listened to the man's words in hopes of picking up a clue. "They were careless," the image continued, "And they ended up here. But I did not kill them. I am incapable of touching them, so you see, they died of natural causes."

"Natural causes?" Jack continued to walk toward the mirror, watching as the man stared back at him calmly. He wasn't moving, which gave Jack pause. The man wasn't afraid of him, or what he could do. Did this mean that Jack was wrong about it being the way out? He kept on talking, hoping that his words would prompt the image into revealing the way out. "They just died of old age?"

The image of Daniel shook its head, still staring at Jack calmly. "Starvation."

Figures, Jack grumbled to himself. He made it to the mirror, excited anticipation racing through him as he reached out to test his theory. The glass was smooth and cool to the touch when Jack pushed against it. The guy in the mirror didn't even flinch, while Jack's image reflected his own resignation. The damn thing didn't budge an inch. Jack wanted to smash something into it out of anger, but decided not to bother. Blood still seeped through the bandage around his arm from the last time he had given in to his frustrations.

"How do I get out of here?" he yelled at the image instead. "There has to be freaking way out of this jungle."

"Yeah, but we ain't gonna find it with you thrashing about like a fish out of water," said a voice from one of the other mirrors. Jack turned to look at his former teammate, wishing the guy was there right that minute so that Jack could punch him out, just for the hell of it. He so wanted to beat the crap out of something, or someone. He watched as the men in his unit from way back when tried to find their way through a wilderness of their own making. They had straggled around in the woods for hours, before they finally figured out that their guide didn't have a clue as to where he was.

"Shut the hell up Carson," Jack snarled back at him. "What do you know about it?"

"I'm telling you, that guy doesn't know which way is up," Carson went on, as if Jack hadn't said a word. "I say we ditch him and find our own way out."

"Good advice, for once," Jack muttered, as he turned back to the mirror that held the image of Daniel, or to be precise, the guy that looked like Daniel. But Daniel wasn't there anymore. Instead, the mirror hosted the image of General Randall who was presenting a younger Jack O'Neill with a pair of silver eagles as part of a promotion ceremony. Jack grimaced at the mirror, than decided that he'd better move on if he was going to find the way out.

He went over to pick up his pack, shouldering it onto his back as he stared at the multitude of panels that lined the walls, before asking, "Which one of you guys is holding out on me?" No one answered, of course, but Jack asked anyway, just in case. He began to methodically push on each panel, one right after the other until he found the one that moved, and he smiled triumphantly when an opening appeared. His smile dimmed though, when he realized that he didn't know what he was going to face on the other side. He took a step then stopped to grip his gun tighter, then looked over at a mirror that showed a scene from that time he had been stranded in Antarctica with Carter and an inoperable Stargate. "Home is where the heart is, Jack," said the vision of his ex-wife who had come to him just before he had succumbed to the cold and his internal injuries. Jack frowned at the mirror, wondering why he was remembering this now, when in all reality, it was the first time he actually remembered it. But now that it played out in the mirror, the memory came back clearly to him. Her image had come to him when he had called out for her, her face a godsend to a dying man. Her words of home brought him some peace during that time, along with the ones she had uttered during his feverish rants, "I'm here, Jack."

He smiled at the scene in the mirror, thinking about Sara and how she had been his someone he could always hang onto when times got tough. This thought reminded him of Old Man Marino and his words of wisdom all those years ago. These people were trying to tell him something, Jack realized. Or maybe it was his own subconscious working on the puzzle of the maze, as the people in the mirrors were memories and not real. Whatever it was, Jack had no clear idea on how to get out, but he also knew that he wouldn't make it out if he just stayed in that room, so he squared his shoulders, grinned at the image of his ex-wife standing there among all the images of his past and current co-workers, then with a small wave turned to leave the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack found the first of the maze's previous participants in the hallway he had just walked into. He had literally walked on something that crunched under his feet. He'd dug out his flashlight to see what it was he had stepped on, then cringed when he saw the skeleton. It was almost as if that guy dressed up like Daniel had been trying to warn Jack of this. "Probably afraid I'd shoot up the next room too," Jack grumbled, as he made a wide berth around the skeleton in order to get to the next room.

But the next room had Jack wishing he hadn't made the rash decision to continue on with his explorations. The images in the mirrors were of people who had caused Jack O'Neill plenty of pain and anguish during his lifetime, and he had to struggle to control the panic that flowed through his heart and mind. "Oh Christ," he whispered, as he stared at the images. He backed up a step at the sight of a battered and bruised man looking back at him in abject misery. There were several men standing over the man, who Jack knew was himself, and he shuddered as he realized what they were planning to do next. He quickly turned away from the memories of his stay in an Iraqi prison and found himself staring at a cocky Goa'uld named Ba'al who was, as far as Jack was concerned, a sadistic bastard. There was his Aunt Betty again, in another mirror, beating the crap out of a young and defenseless Jack. Another image showed a scene right out of Jack's worst nightmare. The memory playing out in that panel was of Hathor caressing his face as a Goa'uld symbiote slithered across his chest.

"No," Jack shouted at the images, and at the man, whoever he was, that was putting him through this. He backed up several steps more as his eyes traveled from one gruesome scene to the next. "No."

"Welcome to Hell." The words were spat out at him from an old man who was sharing a mirror with a scared young Jack O'Neill, the words bringing a whole new meaning to an older and wiser Jack as he stared at all the images in the glass lined walls. He had stepped into his own personal Hell, but he was determined that he wasn't going to stay there.

He walked up to the mirrors that showed his worst images, and pushed and strained to open them, while at the same time trying valiantly to ignore the sounds – screams of pain and words of evil being spewed out at him from all directions. He pushed with all his might, using his shoulder to put more force into finding the opening. His arm was throbbing, his head was beginning to hurt, and terror had his heart pumping faster. He had to get out of there.

He found the exit when he got to Hathor and her snake, and he rushed through it the moment the panel opened up. He had reached the worst of his memories; surely the next room would hold something less terrifying.

He made it into the next room of mirrors in record time, having raced down the hall. This room, like the others, was lined with mirrors, but fortunately for Jack, the mirrors only held images of family and friends. But instead of smiles and happy memories, the people in the mirrors were sad, downcast, even crying openly. Jack walked into the room and stared at the images of Jack sitting on his son's bed, holding a gun in his hand, while another mirror showed a young Jack sitting quietly while his grandfather wept openly over a freshly dug grave. The memories playing out in all of the mirrors depicted the tragedies Jack had personally experienced, and he wondered if maybe this room was worse than the last.

"I'm ready to move on."

Jack turned to see Daniel standing in a mirror, along with Oma Desala. He well remembered the time Daniel ascended, but he still watched as the other Jack O'Neill asked his friend, "You just giving up?"

"No. No, I'm not giving up, believe me."

"Neither will I," Jack said, as he watched his image in the mirror interact with Daniel and Oma. It was a little surreal to see himself as a glowy image, but Jack had learned a long time ago to accept almost anything.

"I'm so sorry Jack." Jack turned around to find the tearful face of his mother, as she hugged the shell-shocked Jack O'Neill standing in the mirror. The image hugged his mother back, but Jack knew that it was an automatic gesture. The Jack O'Neill in the mirror had lost everything, and Jack remembered very little of that time as he tried to make sense of his guilt and pain over the death of his son.

"Here's to the Colonel," Kawalsky said from a mirror a few panels down. Thomas, and the other Jack O'Neill nodded, as the team mourned Jack's old friend John. Jack couldn't help but think of the irony of watching a memory that the Gamekeeper had forced him to relive over and over when SG-1 had visited his planet. The situation that he was currently dealing with reminded him of that mission several years ago and here he was practically going over the same memory.

"Hey, you guys do know that the world above this place is a great one, don't you?" Jack said, thinking that if it worked in that other situation, it was worth a try in this one. No one paid him the least bit of attention, but Jack wasn't interested any more. Something had caught his eye, and he went over to the far side of the room, then knelt down to look at the remains of a couple of people, one of them appearing to be a small child. Anger welled up as he thought about the children that bastard had kept down here, allowing them to die alone. His ex-wife, Sara, was crying over her own child in one of the mirrors, which prompted Jack into wondering about the mother of the little one who was laid out so carelessly in a room full of mirrors.

He sat down next to the skeletons, suddenly weary and afraid. It seemed that the farther he went into the maze, the worse things got for him and he just didn't want to do it anymore. But then again, the alternative would have him looking like the two skeletons lying on the floor next to him. He sat there, holding his wounded arm to his chest and running his thumb over the bandage, as he tried to come up with a working solution to his problem. He wanted to find a way out, all he really needed to do was to stop and think about it for a while.

But the pain in his arm demanded his attention. Jack looked down to see that the bandage was soaked through with blood. The tourniquet that he had left tied around his arm had loosened up, but Jack couldn't find it in him to care. He looked up and stared at the mirror that showed a younger version of himself standing amongst several other people as the solitary notes of a trumpet played a haunting adaptation of "Taps." He closed his eyes as he listened to the tune, briefly wondering how long it would be before that song would be played at his own funeral.

"So many deaths," he said, as he sat there in that room full of mirrors; so many tears. Jack had wept many of them himself, especially when his son had died. And now he was faced with the memories leading up to that incident, as well as the regrets that he felt for every last memory playing out in the mirrors. He wouldn't have been able to save his grandmother who had died of an illness, but maybe if he had stopped his childhood friend, Tony, from driving home from that party, Jack wouldn't have the memory that played out in a mirror a few feet from where he sat. And it didn't even bode well for Jack to dwell on his son's death. But he did anyway. It was a little hard to ignore with several scenes of that horrible time playing out in various mirrors.

"The Lord came and took her home Jack." Grandpa's words filled his ears, but the words did nothing to soothe his soul. Jack looked over at the man and smiled sadly at the sight of his grandfather standing next to his wife's grave, with one hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack had loved that old man, even during his blackest moods. "I'll be following her soon," his grandfather went on to say. "And it will be up to you to make sure that the homestead is taken care of. You'll do that for me, won't you Jack?"

The younger Jack nodded his head, while the older one sat there watching the scene unfold. The old man had died several years later and Jack had been true to his word, taking care of everything when it came time to sell the house and its belongings. He had made sure the more personal belongings, as well as the family heirlooms were passed down to family members who wanted them, while he, himself, kept a few of the things that held the most memories for him. It was like closing out a chapter of his life, and Jack did it efficiently so that he could move on to the next chapter.

"It could be your home, Jack, if you want it to be," his grandfather continued on. "But don't feel obligated to keep it if you don't want it. Home is where your heart is. Always remember that Jack."

Jack stared at his grandfather's image while those words sunk in. That was exactly what Sara had said a few rooms back. They were trying to tell him something, Jack was sure of it now, and he sat up straighter as he tried to figure out what that something was.

"Home is where the heart is?" Jack just had to ask.

As was the norm for his trip through this maze, his grandfather wasn't listening to him. "Follow your heart, Jack. Wherever it takes you, follow it to the end."

The younger Jack continued to nod at his grandfather, as if he understood everything the old man was talking about. But the gray haired Jack sitting on the floor had given up talking to the old man, and was piecing together everything he had heard while he had made the trip through the funhouse. The voices of his memories played out once again in his head, haunting him as he tried to make sense of it all.

"Follow your heart," his grandfather had said several times. And his ex-wife had echoed this sentiment when she'd told him that his "home is where the heart is". Jack's mind was swirling with possibilities, as other voices rang out in his head.

"One day you will find yourselves in a situation where there is no turning back." Jack pondered the words that kept pounding through his mind, as he leaned back against the glass. He was tired and thirsty, but he also needed to concentrate. He reached for his canteen, then took a small drink, briefly wondering if he would be able to conserve it long enough to sustain him until he found the way out.

"Follow your heart, Jack." The words echoed in his mind as he thought about his predicament. He was flat out stuck in this place, and he'd been following through the maze with all the cunning of an elephant. Whatever door opened up, he had gone right on through it without even thinking about alternative exits. Maybe that was the key. Maybe there was more than one exit in each room. He had always come in through a door, but he ended up in a different room when he went back out – which meant different exits.

"Home is where the heart is." He most definitely wanted to go home, and he supposed that Earth was where he wanted to be more than anything. Although anywhere Carter happened to be would be a nice place to settle down, as well. Jack grinned at that thought. While he usually tried not to dwell on how much that woman had come to mean to him, it wasn't a safe thing to think about – even here, a million miles from home.

"I hope that there will be someone who will come back to save you when that time comes." There had been, old man, Jack thought, as the voices of his memories ran through his head. Every single time he had found himself in a tight situation, he had someone to hang on to. It was Sara who had got him through some extremely tough times, and the thought of never seeing Charlie again had Jack pushing against the most extreme tight spots he had found himself in. And when they were gone, Jack's new teammates moved in to give him the support he needed to move on and to survive. Samantha Carter had taken Sara's place when times got tough. Jack would never admit it to anyone, but his feelings for Carter went way beyond what would be considered a professional level. Jack still remembered giving in to blending with a Tok'ra just to make her happy.

But he was in this maze now, and it seemed that he had plenty of people around to save him. Jack just needed to figure out the meaning behind the words. He looked at the mirrors that lined the walls, wondering which one led the way back. The mirrors represented all his memories, good and bad; all he needed to do was to choose the right one. An idea came to him, and Jack stared at the image of a funeral he had attended for a classmate at the Academy. He really hadn't been that close to the woman, although he had dated her for a few weeks. Her death had hit him hard, but it wasn't as earth shattering as the other funerals that were depicted in the other panels.

The longer Jack stared at the panel, the more convinced he had become that it was the one that covered the way out. He mentally went back through all the rooms, realizing that he had randomly pushed and taken the first one out, and it seemed that the ones that held the worst, or the least important of his memories, took him to rooms that got progressively worse, in terms of bad memories. The image of Hathor and her snake brought him to this room, and that memory had been one of the worst. Of course, Jack wasn't sure if he would ever be able to figure out which one of the memories in that room had caused him the least amount of pain and anguish, but to be totally honest, he hoped he'd never have to find out. And if his theory was correct, the mirror he was staring at would take him somewhere else altogether.

He struggled to stand up, only to lean back against the mirror he had been sitting next to in an effort to fight off the bout of dizziness and nausea he'd experienced when he'd gotten to his feet. Once he got his bearings again, he took one last look around the room, making sure that he had the right mirror in mind, then walked up to it. The young Jack O'Neill in the mirror stared out at him, nodding his head slightly, which encouraged Jack. He knew that the reflection was probably reacting to his own thoughts on this theory, but it still seemed to help bolster his beliefs. He put out his hand and touched the glass, then pushed on it with all his might.

It moved.

"Yes!" Jack couldn't help the elation that raced through his veins as he yelled out the word. He grinned at the Jack in the mirror, then pushed even harder to widen the opening. "I knew it," he told the people in the mirror matter-of-factly. The only one who reacted to his elation was his own true reflection in the mirror, but Jack didn't care. He took a deep breath, then moved through the opening.

The next room was full of mirrors that reflected parties and events Jack had attended over the years. Laughter, singing and general revelry was heard as people celebrated whatever event they were celebrating. He smiled at an ecstatic Jack O'Neill and his beautiful bride, Sara, as they danced at their reception. Anniversaries, graduation and Christmas parties were in full swing in many of the mirrors, while birthday parties for his son, Charlie, as well as for a very young Jack played out in others. These were happy times for Jack, and he grinned happily at the images, glad that he had chosen the right panel.

"You're not going home now, are you Jack?" Jack turned to see who was talking to him, then regretted moving so fast. Dizziness had taken over again, and he was starting to worry that maybe he wouldn't be making it out after all. He knew what was bringing on the dizziness, as his arm had been throbbing throughout his travels in the maze of mirrors, and the blood seeping through the bandage was not helping much. He made quick work of tightening the tourniquet around his arm, knowing that it was probably too late anyway. But Jack was determined to beat the maze, even if it meant he would die trying. He never was one to lie down and wait for death.

"Come on, Jack. The party is just starting and we've got plenty of beer." Jack finally found the speaker and he watched as the Jack in the mirror shook his head, while smiling at his friend, John. Jack remembered this party. He and his teammates had been celebrating a victory of the day before. But Jack knew that their celebration would be short lived. John would be killed by a sniper while on a mission in Germany not even a month later.

"I can't stay here John," Jack told the man in the mirror. John didn't respond, he was too busy trying to convince the Jack O'Neill in the mirror to hang out for a while longer. Jack watched as his counterpart finally gave in. Sadness filled him as he watched the friends partying in the mirror. "Watch yourself man," he said, wishing the warning could have been real.

"But I don't want to go home, Dad." Jack's heart constricted at the sound of Charlie's voice coming at him from a mirror on the other side of the room. "Can't we stay just a little longer?" Jack stood there, not really wanting to revisit the memory of his nephew's birthday party. Charlie had had a blast at that party, and Jack had to practically drag the kid away. "Please Dad?"

"I can't stay here," Jack told the images in the mirrors. "Don't you see? I'm not supposed to be here." The people in the mirrors continued to party on, ignoring the onlooker, but Jack was starting to lose it. His mind was beginning to feel fuzzy, and he worried for a second that maybe he was in the mirrors with his memories. It was almost as if the memories were talking to him. They were playing off of his determination to leave, trying to make him feel guilty for leaving them behind. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs away, then focused on finding the happiest memory so that he could get out before the mirrors sucked him in completely.


	5. Chapter 5

It had taken Jack several minutes to decide on which memory was the happiest, and in fact had pushed on the panel of his first choice, only to have it not budge an inch. Apparently the day of his marriage wasn't the happiest memory, which, now that he thought about it, made sense. He had gotten so drunk that night he ended up puking his guts up and had to spend several hours the next day trying to make it up to a very angry new bride. But then again, when she finally forgave him…

Happiness comes in all flavors, Jack thought, as he looked for another happy memory. He had finally decided on Charlie's first birthday party, and was glad when the panel moved for him. Jack pushed on it, then rested his head against the glass with his eyes closed, wishing the dizziness would go away.

After a few moments, he walked into the next room and grinned at the images of his co-workers. General Hammond was still giving a younger Jack an ultimatum, and Carter was still telling her teammates about her date with Cassie, all of which was music to Jack's ears. He had been in this room before, so he must be headed in the right direction. All he had to do was pick the mirror with his happiest, or favorite, memory and he'd be all set.

So which one? It most definitely wasn't the memory of his antics with some of his old buddies from Desert Storm. That one had led him to the dungeon of torture. Something else had to be the one. He took his time, looking at each and every memory, silently debating the pros and cons, before finally deciding on the image of Carter and her talk of Cassie. That memory was a particularly happy one, as he and Daniel had tried their best to get a reaction out of Teal'c, while Carter talked about Cassie in an effort to get them to stop. They worked well together and had become close friends throughout the years. That one had to be the way out.

He stepped up to the mirror and pushed, grinning happily when the panel moved. He had to put more pressure than normal, or so it seemed, but the door finally moved.

He was getting closer to his destination. The next room reflected his memories of his family. He had been in this room before, or so he thought.

If he remembered correctly, and he wasn't so sure of anything anymore, this was the first room he had entered into once he got past the room full of blank mirrors. He was almost there! Excitement raced through him as he stared at all the panels, watching as his family went about their business in the mirrors.

But something was off, he realized, as he stared at the reflections of his past. The people in the mirrors didn't seem to be happy, and Jack watched as his mother shook her head sadly at the Jack in the mirror. This wasn't the same room after all, and frustration reigned once again as he realized that he was lost in a maze of uncertainty.

"I want out of this place!" he yelled. His memories didn't seem to care, but they weren't the ones Jack wanted to reach anyway. "What's the secret to this place?"

"Please don't go, Daddy."

Oh God, Jack thought, as his mind traveled back through time to the few times when his son, Charlie, had thrown a fit each time Jack had been deployed overseas. He didn't need to look at the panel to visualize those memories. They came slamming back to him as the sound of his son crying out for him to stay assaulted his ears.

"No, Daddy! Please! Please don't go."

Jack found himself drawn to the mirror anyway, his paternal instincts kicking in and pushing him to at least try to comfort his child. He stared at the image of his son's tear-streaked face, hugging the younger version of Jack O'Neill in the mirror and he felt the same old feelings of anger and pain as he realized that he didn't have a choice. Just as he had to leave Charlie then, he was going to have to leave him now.

"I have to go, Charlie," he told the little boy, just as the Jack in the mirror said the same thing. The mingled voices sounded almost eerie to Jack, but the image didn't seem to notice. He was intent on making his little boy understand. "But don't worry," the other Jack continued on, "You will always be with me. Right here in my heart." He thumped his chest for emphasis, while the real Jack O'Neill listened to the words.

"You can't leave now, Jack. You just got here." His mother's words broke into Jack's concentration of trying to decipher what his counterpart had said. He turned to see what she was going on about, then shook his head in anger when he realized what was going on. This was all a set up. The guy who ran this place was running interference in an effort to distract Jack from leaving. Every single mirror in the room held a memory of the times when guilt was a constant companion. There was his aunt berating a very young Jack, telling him it was entirely his fault that she was living with a Neanderthal. His grandfather was in a mirror a few panels down, clearly disappointed in a teenage Jack who had totaled the family truck. And on the other side of the room was a panel where Sara was crying her heart out because Jack had forgotten their first anniversary. There were so many disappointments and so much guilt, all weighing heavily on Jack as he remembered those events.

"Don't leave me." Jack looked back at the image of a five-year-old Charlie, still begging his father to stay with him. But Jack had to get out. He couldn't deal with it anymore. So he turned his attention on finding the way out. He knew with a certainty that the way out was not the mirror where a guilt ridden Jack O'Neill sat on his son's bed, holding a pistol in his hands. If anything, that one would lead him right back to the room where Ba'al, Hathor and the rest of his worst nightmares resided.

Nor would it be the one where Colonel O'Neill sat next to the bed where Samantha Carter's body lay after she had been hit with a Zat twice. The guilt Jack went through during that event had been nearly overwhelming, almost too much to bear. He continued to study the mirrors while the voices of his memories tried to convince him to stay with them.

"Daddy!" his son wailed, sobbing his little heart out. Jack tried to ignore it. After all, the whole scene was just an old memory, one that he had kept hidden all these years. He was able to hide from it then, he could do it now. He continued to study the mirrors, trying to decide which one was the least painful memory, when one of the Jack O'Neill's spoke up.

"You will never be able to leave here."

Jack looked over at the image, realizing that the mirror no longer held his crying son's image. The image was now reflecting Jack's true image, right down to the blood stained bandage around his left arm. But Jack knew that this was not a true reflection of himself. For one thing, the image didn't imitate Jack's movements. No, it wasn't a true image at all. Jack knew who that image was. It was the "curator" of the maze.

"I will get out of here," Jack said with determination. "Nothing's going to keep me here."

"You cannot leave."

"Yeah, well I've figured out the puzzle," Jack said smugly. "I know how to get out of here, which is why you are doing all this to try to stop me." He waved his arm around to indicate the images in the mirrors, then immediately regretted it. The room seemed to spin, as the lights in the mirrors bounced off of each other, causing Jack to fight to stay conscious.

"You are dying," the Jack in the mirror told him. "You will remain here for eternity."

"Uh uh," Jack said, as he moved over to lean up against a mirror. His arm was throbbing, keeping time with the pounding in his head, and he was afraid that maybe the guy was right. "This place is so gonna be history, just as soon as I find the way out. And I must be getting close, or you wouldn't be trying to turn my memories against me." He was right on this assumption, he had to be. The guy in the mirror didn't acknowledge the statement, but Jack was sure of it. "Besides, my friends will get me out of here. One way or the other, I am leaving this dump."

"Your friends have been trying to activate the entrance, but they will not succeed. The maze can only accommodate one person at a time. It will not open until you are dead." His features took on a thoughtful look, before giving Jack a cocky grin. "I am anxious to witness their memories."

"Don't be so sure of yourself. The big guy has the capability of healing himself. He'd destroy every last one of the rooms in this place." The Jack in the mirror looked concerned, which caused the real Jack to forge on. "And Daniel would be able to solve the riddle of this place just like that." He snapped his fingers to emphasize his point, while the guy in the mirror tried to act like he didn't believe a word Jack was saying. Jack could see him struggling to keep the upper hand, but the guy was definitely worried. "Any one of them would be able to beat this maze. I mean if I can do it, so can they."

"But you haven't done anything," the alien informed him. "You are still trapped in this maze. And you will soon die in this maze."

"I've figured out how to get out. And you know it, or you wouldn't be trying to turn me around." Jack stared at the other mirrors; all of them holding memories that were reenacting various scenarios over and over again. "You're here to try to convince me that I'm wrong." The image in the mirror shook his head, but Jack was through with the guy. He just wanted out. "I'm going to choose the right door, and I will find the way out."

"The only way out is through me," the image told him. "I cannot let you leave." He squared his shoulders, giving Jack the impression that he was blocking the way, but Jack wasn't easily fooled, even if he was dealing with a huge loss of blood.

"Come on. You think I was born yesterday?" He shook his head at the image, then went about trying to find the real way out. "That was one of my most painful memories, not to mention that it's a little hard for me to believe that you would actually tell me how to leave. Give me a break, okay?" He glared at the guy, then went back to looking for a way out. His mother's pleading was probably not the way out either, only because she had died a few months after he had left that day. Jack was still dealing with that guilt.

Sara's little temper tantrum caused by Jack's forgetfulness wasn't so bad, especially since he had made it up to her in a big way, and she had forgiven him, which pretty much absolved his guilt. That one might be the way out. Or it could be the mirror showing his father's anger at a very young Jack, who had kept his father from getting a promotion at work when Jack had hit a baseball through the boss's car window. He had totally forgotten about that memory until he saw it in the mirror. That guilt hadn't lasted very long either.

"Please daddy?" Jack stopped studying the mirrors long enough to harden his heart against the memory that was determined to destroy him. It was hard, in fact, his son's pleading continued to bombard him, while Jack desperately tried to find the way out.

"He is a beautiful child," the Jack in the mirror told him. "He will miss you deeply if you leave him here."

"He is just a memory," Jack gritted out. He knew what this guy was doing, and he was determined not to let him win. "He will always be with me."

"How can you be so sure he is just a memory?" Jack glared at the guy, then went back to studying all the panels, deciding that he would just ignore him and move on with his life.

"Please don't go, Daddy."

"I'm thinking that one," Jack said, as he pointed at the mirror that housed his angry father. "Yeah. That's the one."

"No, Daddy! Please! Please don't go."

Jack continued to ignore the pleas, knowing that the alien was choosing that memory to torment him. He looked back at the alien, only to find that he had gone, leaving an image of a sobbing Charlie that was hanging onto his father with everything he had.

"I love you Charlie," Jack said, as he took one last look at his son. "You will always be with me. I promise." The Charlie in the mirror didn't hear him, but Jack knew that the message got through. Charlie always had a huge smile on his face whenever Jack came home.

"Home is where your heart is, Jack." The words were whispering through his mind, as the wispy memory of Sara coming to him in Antarctica floated through his brain. She had been right, and Jack now knew what his subconscious had been telling him through the memories of his wife and his grandfather. He walked up to the mirror and stopped with his hand placed firmly on the glass. If it wasn't this one, it was the one with Sara in it. Both memories were the only ones that he didn't have regrets over. He took a deep breath and pushed, relief flowing through him when the panel moved.

"Yes," he said quietly, as he pushed harder. He got the door open then stepped through, regrets pouring over him anyway as the sound of his son's pleading followed him out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

Well, here we are to the final chapter. I hope you all enjoyed this story, and as always, I would love to hear your thoughts on it, no matter what your thoughts are. :) Thanks for reading!!

* * *

Well, this is a surprise, Jack thought, as he looked at all the mirrors in the room. Most of them were empty, except for the image of a tired and worn down Jack O'Neill reflecting back at him. Those images were true images, Jack realized, as each one mimicked Jack's movements. But he really didn't pay much attention to those images. He was more interested in the mirrors that held the memories of all the women that he had ever loved. Some were vague memories, childhood crushes and a teenage unrequited love, while others held strong memories for him, like Sara, Brenda, his high school sweetheart, and most surprisingly, Samantha Carter. Jack was suddenly glad that the real Carter wasn't standing there next to him at that moment. He would have had a lot of explaining to do to try to get himself out of that one. 

But these were good memories, and the fact that he was in this room at all reinforced his theory on how to escape the funhouse. All he needed to do was to find the best memory, or to be more precise, decide on which one he loved the most. His eyes immediately went to Sara. He had loved her more than life itself when they were married, but she had hurt him deeply when she had left him, destroying his trust in women and in her. Jack still loved her, but he had to wonder if it was enough.

He had loved Brenda when they were an item. She had stood by him through thick and thin at first, making life a little easier during the later years of high school. But they had drifted apart when their interests took them down different paths. Jack had loved her then, and was devastated when they finally had to break up. She had been a great friend and lover.

He turned to see if he could find a place to sit down, hoping to ease the dizziness that plagued him, then noticed a woman who had not only saved Jack's life while he was stranded on her planet, but had also kept him sane. He smiled at Laira, as she and the Jack O'Neill in the mirror shared a solitary meal. Her son had been visiting with a friend that day, Jack remembered, leaving Jack and Laira alone. That was the beginning of the end for Jack, as that was the day he had come to the realization that he was probably never going home and had donned the shirt she had offered to symbolize his acceptance of that fact.

Jack had come to love Laira deeply, but the relationship had been doomed from the start. He should have known that rescue was imminent, that his team would come through for him. And they had, leaving him with a decision to make. It wasn't a difficult decision. He knew what he had to do. He had his life on Earth and she had hers on Edora. It had been hard to leave her, but he knew that he had made the right choice.

But he was now faced with another difficult choice. Exhaustion was taking its toll on his body and he knew he had to sit down for a minute. He found a blank mirror and sat down with his back to it, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes wearily. He was fading fast, but he couldn't stop now. He was almost there. He could feel it. All he needed to do was to find the right door.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring at Carter. She and her commanding officer were also sitting on the floor, sharing a few quiet moments in an underground world that existed only to provide energy to a city they didn't even know existed. Jack turned away from the images of Jonah and Thera, knowing that he would be in deep trouble if his feelings for Carter ever surfaced. He couldn't even be sure what his feelings for her were. He had been forced to keep them deep down within himself, never to let anyone know what he felt for his second in command. But apparently, his feelings went deeper than he thought. She was in the mirrors that held the reflections of the women he had loved at one time or another, and Jack couldn't help worrying about that fact. He couldn't afford to love Samantha Carter. He'd be facing a court martial for even thinking about it.

He sighed heavily, then tried to concentrate on which panel would be the way out.

"I was kinda wondering which direction home was." Jack's attention was directed to a mirror that depicted his stay on Edora and the day that he had found the Stargate had been buried, stranding him on Edora. Laira stood on a small hill and pointed toward her house to answer his question.

"It's this way."

The real Jack followed the direction in which she pointed, but he ended up staring at a blank mirror that was right next to his childhood crush. He grinned at the little girl, her hair pulled back off her face with a bright ribbon, and at the young Jack O'Neill who was trying valiantly to come up with something witty to say. That was definitely not the way out, and Jack's smile dimmed as he realized his tormentor was trying to twist his memories around again.

There was no way he was going to fall for anything that guy threw at him. He turned his gaze on to Sara again, thinking that she had to be the one. He really had loved her, and she was the mother of his son. It had to be her.

But then again, there was Sam. Brilliant, beautiful, and hot as Hell in that tank top she wore to entice him when she had been infected by an alien disease, Sam Carter had wormed her way into his heart without even trying. The thought of losing her had his guts twisted into knots; he couldn't even contemplate her death. And even though the risks were part of the job, Jack still went to extreme lengths to make sure she survived those risks. He cared deeply for her, but did he love her?

The answer would be found by pushing on the mirrors. Whichever one opened up was the woman he loved the most. But Jack was a little afraid to find out. What if it was Carter?

"What do you think, Carter? You or Sara?"

"It can't be me, sir." The words came from a different panel than the one showing the memory from the ice planet. Jack had to twist around slightly to find the speaker, but there she was, staring out at him from her vantage point in the mirror. "It's against regulations."

"Yeah," Jack had to agree, as he nodded his head. He closed his eyes against the onslaught of another bout of dizziness, then opened them to see Carter still staring at him. "Uh… Carter? Is that you?" She nodded at him, while giving him one of her beautiful smiles, and Jack relaxed a little. "You do know, don't you, that you're not supposed to be talking directly to me."

"You have to get up and get out of here, Colonel." Jack nodded in agreement, but couldn't find the strength to get up. He sat there instead, watching as Carter stared at him with concern. "You can't die here, sir. You're almost there, you know you are. Just get up and get moving."

The words she was spouting off sounded so much like the words he would have said, were he in her shoes, he couldn't help but think that she was a reflection of his thoughts. "You're my subconscious, aren't you?" Jack had to ask. He tilted his head and stared at her image for a moment, then said, "Why am I a woman?"

"Come on Colonel. There's not much time left. Get up and get moving."

"Too tired… Give me a minute to rest, okay?"

"You can rest when you get out of here. You don't want to die in here, do you?"

"No," Jack said wearily. He was just so tired. A little nap might do him some good. Besides, if he was going to die, he couldn't think of a better place to do it. It wouldn't be so bad to die here in the company of the women who had loved him.

"Please Jack," Carter pleaded. Oh man, now she had done it. How could he deny her when she begged like that? "Please?"

"Okay," he grumbled, as he struggled to get up. He finally got to his feet, then had to stand still for a moment to wait until the room stopped spinning. Sara and Carter were both smiling at him, while the Carter who represented his subconscious was cheering him on. He made his way over to the two mirrors that he had determined were the ones he needed to push, then stopped to debate the issue one last time. He made his decision, as the voices of his memories washed over him, telling him to follow his heart. He placed his hand on the mirror that held the image of his ex-wife and pushed on it with every ounce of energy he had left.

It opened up, and Jack smiled as a draft wafted through the doorway. He turned to look at Carter, who was smiling proudly at him, and he just had to say, "Carter. Remind me to give you a big, wet, sloppy kiss when I get out of this, okay?"

Carter smiled broadly at him and nodded, even though Jack knew he would never follow through on his promise. He grinned back, then turned to leave, stopping long enough to take one last look at the image of Sara. Her smile was as big as Carter's, and Jack held on to the memory, knowing it would be a long time before he would ever see that smile again.

The hallway he found himself in was long and drafty. It was a cold wind that drifted over him, but Jack didn't care. This was so different from the other hallways he had been in; he knew that this was the way out. The wind made an eerie noise as he walked farther away from the maze, sounding almost human. But he kept on walking, resorting to finding his way by hugging the wall when the light dimmed almost to complete darkness.

He was dragging his feet as he walked, too tired to go any faster. But he kept moving, knowing that he had found the way out. He was almost to the end of his strength when he heard someone yelling his name.

"Daniel?" he called out, hoping that this was not another trick. "Teal'c?"

"O'Neill!" That was definitely Teal'c's voice, Jack thought, as anticipation built up in him. His team had found him, and eagerness to see their faces had him picking up his pace. A stream of light wormed its way through the darkness, followed by two more and Jack knew he was saved. A moment later a light beam had found him and stayed on him, while he heard footsteps running toward him. Jack finally stopped and leaned up against the wall, as he waited for his friends to get to him. He closed his eyes for a moment, but opened them up again to make sure his mind, or that alien jerk, wasn't playing tricks on him again.

"Jack! Oh man, what happened to you?" Daniel had been the first to get to him, and Jack reached out to touch him, wanting to be certain the man was real. His fingers landed on smooth fabric, and Jack clenched his fingers into the jacket intending to hang on to something tangible. This Daniel was real, which gave Jack the incentive to let go of his determination to stay awake. His team was here now. They would make sure he survived, just as they always had.

He smiled at Daniel, as Teal'c came up to them, just in time to catch Jack as his knees buckled under him. He vaguely heard Carter yell for a medic before darkness claimed him completely.

* * *

"The only way to truly find what you seek is to follow your heart." The words floated through Jack's mind as he lay there, somewhere between sleep and awareness. They meant something to him, but he couldn't be sure what. "Wherever it takes you, follow it to the end." He vaguely remembered bits and pieces of a memory, one in which his grandfather was trying to tell him something – something important. Still, the memory was a distant one. Jack didn't even try to find it when it floated away from him. Instead, he lay there with his eyes closed, listening to the voices and sounds of people who surrounded him, and wondering what was going on. 

He was on a stretcher, he decided. The swaying of his body told him that much. The movement stopped suddenly, and he heard the familiar sounds of chevrons locking into place. He was going home.

"Just hang on, sir." He opened his eyes to see Carter standing over him, looking at him with concern clearly etched in her features. She had helped him back in the maze, and she was with him now. He wanted to tell her that he was fine, but he couldn't seem to find the strength. She smiled at him, then said, "We're going home."

"Home," he whispered, before smiling weakly at his second in command. She had been his lifeline at the end there. Out of all the people in his memories, Carter was the one who pushed him out the door. "Where the heart is." He could see that she was confused, but he didn't even try to clear up her confusion. He would have plenty of time to do that later, when he was up and walking around again.

"Yes sir," she said. He closed his eyes again, intending to sleep through to the next week, but images of his memories floated across his mind, reminding Jack of a nagging worry. An image of a small skeleton filtered into his thoughts, making it imperative that he warn the natives.

"Mirrors…," he whispered, but they were on the move again and no one was listening. He looked up at Carter, who glanced down at him as she walked alongside the moving stretcher. "Maze…," he told her, to try one more time.

"There are plenty of mirrors at the SGC, sir," one of the medics told him. "You can gaze into them to your heart's content."

"We'll take care of it," Daniel said, from the other side of the stretcher. Jack hadn't even known he was there, but he was glad that someone knew what he was talking about. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Yeah," Jack muttered, as sleep pulled him down into its grasp. He gave into it, knowing that he was going to survive the trip. He was on his way home. That's all that mattered now.

The End


End file.
